Beaches of Barksdale Part 3 Road Kill
by Lawndale Stalker
Summary: There's blood in the saddle as the Morgendorffer gang hits the trail!


11/11/01 I'm currently working on Part 3 of BLOOD OATH OF PATRIOTS, but this story popped into my head and wanted out. So I'm going to post it here in parts, and ask you all to be my beta readers. I'm particularly interested in whether I got the characters and their family interrelationships right. The rest of the story will be along very quickly, I promise. Oh, and I'm posting this in MS Word format, to see how it works. -GH  
  
11/14/01 Doesn't work any better than html format that I can see- I want more control over the appearance of my documents. See BY ANY OTHER NAME at Outpost Daria to see what I mean. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Only ff.net has near-instant posting. Sometimes. Well, anyway, here's---  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
THE BEACHES of BARKSDALE  
  
PART III  
  
1.1 ROAD KILL  
  
OR  
  
2 JUST AN OLD SWEET SONG  
  
by  
  
GALEN HARDESTY  
  
  
  
  
  
Jake took in the scenery scrolling by, felt the hum of the smooth asphalt, the powerful sweep of the Lexus rounding a curve. He looked over at Daria, his eldest, riding shotgun. "Don't you just love the open road? Let's have a song!"  
  
Daria looked back at her father, and found herself enjoying his enjoyment, even after cringing at his totally corny Andy Hardy attitude. Oh, well, he was only embarrassing himself in front of his immediate family. Laying aside a sarcastic remark, she selected a response that might provide a bit more fun.  
  
"Okay!  
  
In heaven there is no beer  
  
That's why we drink it here.  
  
'Cause when we're gone from here  
  
Our friends will be drinking all the beer! Everybody!  
  
  
  
Jake and Quinn joined in.  
  
"In heaven there is no beer  
  
That's why we drink it here. (Yeee-haww!)  
  
'Cause when we're gone from here  
  
Our friends will be drinking all the beer! Stomp yer feet!  
  
  
  
In heaven there is no beer (stomp! stomp!)  
  
That's why we drink it here. (stomp! stomp!)  
  
'Cause when... "  
  
  
  
Helen yelled "HOLD IT!"  
  
Daria shot her mother a feigned hurt look. "What?"  
  
"That song doesn't have an end to it, does it? Let's sing something with a finite number of verses, all right?"  
  
"Party pooper! Umm, let's see... Ah. A thousand bottles of beer on the wall, a thousand bottles of beer!"  
  
Clueless as ever, Jake joined in happily. "Take one down and pass it around, nine hundred ninety-nine ..."  
  
"Daria! Jake! We are not singing a thousand choruses of that stupid song!  
  
"All right, Mom, we'll cut it down some. Nine hundred ninety bottles of beer on the..."  
  
"Daria!"  
  
"All right, Mom! Jeez! Nine hundred bottles of beer on the wall, nine..."  
  
"Daria, either pick another song, or let's do something else entirely!"  
  
"How about a game? Dad, remember that strange game your grandmother taught you?"  
  
"You mean Old Dead Pig? You want to play that?"  
  
"Sure! I'll start. Old dead pig in the road. I one 'im!" Daria poked Jake's elbow.  
  
"I two 'im!" said Jake.  
  
"I three 'im.", said Quinn, who, sitting behind Jake, was next in the rotation.  
  
"I four 'im." said Helen, without enthusiasm.  
  
"I five 'im!" smirked Daria.  
  
"I six 'im!" from Jake.  
  
"I seven 'im." from Quinn.  
  
"I eight 'im." muttered Helen.  
  
"You ate him?!" chimed in the other three. "No wonder you stink!"  
  
"Quinn, you start this time."said Daria.  
  
Quinn eyed Daria speculatively. "I one 'im!"  
  
Daria poked Jake again. "I two 'im!" he said.  
  
"I three 'im!" smirked Daria, and turned around to face Helen.  
  
"All right! I get it! I stink!" Helen snapped. "Daria, that's not a game, it never was! It was just something to keep small children amused, in a time when children were more easily amused than they are now." She shot Daria a cranky look. "Most of them, anyway."  
  
Daria smiled a pleasant, innocent smile. "Just trying to keep a family tradition alive. This is supposed to be a family day, isn't it?" She turned back around to face front. "Some of us could stand to adopt a more cheerful attitude."  
  
  
  
  
  
Jane entered the next room and was momentarily stunned. Taking up almost an entire wall was Picasso's "Guernica". She realized it must be a reproduction, but it was still magnificent. Gazing on the twisted, tortured figures in the midst of the cubistic carnage, Jane wondered how Daria and her twisted family were doing. They must be on the road, about halfway to the beach. How deep was the blood in the floorboards of Jake's Lexus right now?  
  
  
  
  
  
"There was blood in the saddle  
  
There was blood on the ground,  
  
And a great big puddle  
  
Of bloo-ood all around.  
  
  
  
The cowboy lay in it,  
  
All covered with gore,  
  
And he won't be a-ridin'  
  
No bro-onco no more."  
  
  
  
Helen saw Daria's eyes watching her in the rear view mirror. Hastily, she stuck her smile back on. Helen was sure that, while Daria's lips might be singing "cowboy", she was thinking "mother", and that she was similarly substituting "her daughter" for "no bronco".  
  
"That's, uh, nice, dear, but do you know any more cheerful songs?"  
  
"How about "Barnacle Bill the Sailor"?"  
  
"Is it a clean version?"  
  
"I didn't know there was a clean version. It doesn't matter, I already taught it to Quinn."  
  
"Daria! Shame on you! When did you do that?"  
  
"A long time ago. As soon as I learned it."  
  
Helen looked over at Quinn, who grinned. "Well, we're not singing it."  
  
"Why not, if we all know it? It's a fun song."  
  
"Daria, we are not singing that vulgar song!"  
  
"Jeez! Whatever happened to adopting a cheerful attitude and being pleasant? Or was that just me who was supposed to do that?" Daria thought a minute. "Quinn, remember that song we heard on TV a couple of weeks ago?"  
  
"You mean "Our House"?"  
  
"Yeah. That's cheerful. Mom, you and Dad come in on the chorus. It goes:  
  
And you're always welcome at our house  
  
Any time of day!  
  
You're always welcome at our house  
  
And we hope you'll stay!  
  
"Okay, first verse." Daria and Quinn began to sing.  
  
A man came to our house, our house, our house  
  
A man came to our house to sell us a broom.  
  
So we said "Please come in!" and we hit him with a hammer  
  
And we put him in the closet in Father's room.  
  
  
  
And you're always welcome at our house  
  
Any time of day!  
  
You're always welcome at our house  
  
And we hope you'll stay!  
  
  
  
A boy came into our yard, our yard, our yard  
  
A boy came into our yard to get his ball.  
  
So we said "Please come in!" and we took him downstairs  
  
And we bricked him up in the basement wall.  
  
  
  
And you're always welcome at our house  
  
Any time of day!  
  
You're always welcome at our house  
  
And we hope you'll stay!  
  
  
  
A lady came to our house, our house, our house  
  
A lady came to see why I wasn't in school.  
  
So we said "Please come in!" and we gave her poisoned lemonade  
  
And stuck her in the freezer where it's nice and cool.  
  
  
  
And you're always welcome at our house  
  
Any time of day!  
  
You're always welcome at our house  
  
And we know you'll stay!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Daria, do you know any nice songs where nobody dies?"  
  
"Well, let's see.. Ballad of John Henry? Nope. He dies. My Darling Clementine? She's lost and gone forever. On the Lone Prairie? They buried him there. Barbara Allen? Dies. Big John? Cave-in. The Irish Rover? The whole crew drowns but one guy. Streets of Laredo? He's cold as the clay. Casey Jones? Scalded to death by the steam. Running Bear? The raging river pulled them down. Patches? Same. Moody River? Same. Ode to Billy Joe? Same. Teen Angel? Silly me. How about "Barnacle Bill the Sailor?"  
  
"We are not singing that vulgar song!! Think of a game or something!"  
  
Daria was really getting into her role as activities director from hell. "I know! Let's play "Helen's last nerve"! Whoever makes her screech their name the most times wins!"  
  
"Daria!"  
  
"One for me! Yay!"  
  
"DARIA!"  
  
Daria fired off a snapshot of Helen's face. "And Daria surges ahead to an early lead!"  
  
"Daria, can't you for once get into the spirit of a family outing and just have fun?  
  
"Mom, I am having fun. Really."  
  
With a sinking feeling, Helen realized that this was true. Daria was enjoying herself immensely, in direct proportion to how much she made her suffer. "Would it be possible for you to enjoy yourself in such a way that others could enjoy themselves as well?"  
  
"You mean like..." Daria locked eyes with Helen. "...take into consideration the rights and wishes and feelings of others? Gee, I don't know, Mom. You tell me." A line from an old movie popped into her consciousness. "Then as I end my refrain... thrust home!" She pictured Daria de Bergerac's rapier sheathing itself in Helen's heart. And the expression on Helen's face told Daria that her thrust had indeed hit home. She turned back to face front. "I know, Dad! Let's sing the Young Aviator song!" Jake's grin answered Daria's. To the tune of "My Bonnie lies over the ocean", the two began singing:  
  
  
  
The young aviator lay dying,  
  
And, as in the wreckage he lay,  
  
With his buddies all gathered around him,  
  
These last dying words did he say:  
  
  
  
"Take the spark advance out of my kidney,  
  
The connecting rod out of my brain,  
  
From the small of my back take the crankshaft,  
  
And assemble the engine again!"  
  
  
  
  
  
Helen cringed. That was one of the songs Jake had learned in military school. More than the gross lyrics, more even than the knowledge that Daria had selected it just to annoy her, the realization that Jake had somehow been bonding and sharing with Daria when she hadn't, was like bitter gall to her. How the hell had he done that? The two of them hadn't gone on any trips or outings together, well, except that one stupid seminar, hadn't set aside any "quality time", hadn't reserved a suite or a cabin or a cabana, hadn't done any of the planning and preparation and hard work she'd done organizing this trip. Had they just sat at the table or on the sofa and... done it? Was that possible?  
  
  
  
"... hurtled through the ether, many thoughts went through his mind.  
  
He thought about his mother and the girl he'd left behind.  
  
He thought about the medics and he wondered what they'd find.  
  
And he ain't gonna jump no more!  
  
  
  
Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die!  
  
Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die!  
  
Gory. gory, what a helluva way to die!  
  
And he ain't gonna jump no more!  
  
  
  
  
  
Oh, God, another one! How many of those awful songs did Jake know? Had he taught Daria all of them? Did she actually like them? Probably. Daria had that morbid turn of mind. Or had she just learned them to please Jake? Naah. Daria had never learned anything from her like that.  
  
Oh, wait. Yes, she had. Daria had learned to read during those long days at the law library at college. In those moments stolen from her studying. What a sponge her little brain had been! Daria could read kiddie books by the time she was three, and almost anything in the paper by four.  
  
Her brain was still a sponge, come to think of it. She'd about cleaned out the school library, and was complaining about the pickings at the city library. But she hadn't learned anything from Helen lately. What had Helen offered to teach her lately? She couldn't think of anything. And actually...  
  
A memory from that long-ago time surfaced. She'd been reading something in a law book, she couldn't remember what.  
  
"Mommy?"  
  
  
  
"Mmm."  
  
  
  
"Mommy?"  
  
  
  
"Yes, Daria..."  
  
  
  
"What's this word?"  
  
  
  
Helen had looked down, Daria was sitting in the floor with a copy of the Middleton College newspaper, pointing at an article on the front page. Helen bent down, looked closer. Daria's tiny finger was pointing at the word "the", the most common word in the english language.  
  
"The. t - h - e the."  
  
Helen had pointed out the letters and gone back to her law book. A minute later...  
  
"Mommy?"  
  
  
  
"Yes?"  
  
  
  
"What's this word?"  
  
  
  
"And. A-n-d and."  
  
  
  
And so it had begun. Daria had continued to pick out words, usually very common words or words next to very common words. Helen couldn't remember ever being asked about the same word twice. So Helen hadn't initiated teaching Daria to read, either. Daria had pestered it out of her.  
  
What a treasure she was! One in a million. No, more like one in ten million. Helen felt ashamed for ignoring her so. Daria was such a quiet child. She almost never pestered Helen after she'd learned to read. So easy to ignore. She'd just go and read a book.  
  
  
  
"For it's beer, beer, beer  
  
That makes us feel so queer  
  
In the Corps  
  
In the Corps  
  
In the Corps  
  
In the Corps  
  
For it's beer, beer, beer  
  
That makes us feel so queer  
  
In the Quar- ter- mas- ter Corps!"  
  
  
  
Good grief, they were back to beer again! Well, it was better than blood, Helen supposed. "You know, dear, the purpose of this trip is to spend time bonding with one another. Why don't we do that for a while?"  
  
"But we are bonding, Mom. Dad, aren't we bonding here?"  
  
"We sure are, kiddo!"  
  
"Quinn, aren't we bonding?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess." Quinn gave a lopsided smile. "I'm sure seeing a side of you that you don't often let out."  
  
"Well, Mom wanted me to be pleasant and have fun, and she paid for it. It's costing me, but I'm like an honest politician. Once I'm bought, I stay bought."  
  
"I don't detect any bonding taking place between you and me, Daria. When is that going to happen?"  
  
"When you stop treating me like chattel. Or like some prop on the set of "The Helen Barksdale Story." Daria struggled to maintain a pleasant tone.  
  
"Good grief, Daria! I'm just trying to get the family together for some quality time, so we can talk and share and get caught up with each other's lives!  
  
"The quality of this time is extremely poor, from my viewpoint."  
  
"Whose fault is that? This trip is costing me a young fortune, and you're not giving it a chance."  
  
"It's your damn fault! You kidnapped me! You stole something from me that I can never get back! What did you expect? Money can't buy my love!"  
  
The ensuing silence lasted almost to the beach.  
  
  
  
Coming soon!  
  
THE BEACHES of BARKSDALE  
  
PART IV  
  
CHIC of the BURNING SANDS  
  
  
  
  
  
Disclaimer  
  
 "Daria" and all related characters are trademarks of MTV Networks, a division of Viacom International, inc. The author does not claim copyright to these characters or to anything else in the "Daria" milieu; he does, however, claim copyright to all those parts of this work of fiction which are original to him and not to MTV or to other fanfic authors. This fanfic may be freely copied and distributed provided its contents remain unchanged, provided the author's name and email address are included, and provided that the distributor does not use it for monetary profit. (as if.)  
  
  Galen Hardesty [gehardesty@yahoo.com] 


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